


Kiss Me Under the Light of a Thousand Stars

by alisvolatpropiis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Damon Salvatore cameo, Derek is a Good Alpha, Everyone Is Alive, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Jealous Derek, Love Confessions, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), One Shot, POV Derek, Valentine's Day, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:10:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisvolatpropiis/pseuds/alisvolatpropiis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It was a true love spell,” he admits quietly. “It was supposed to help me find my true love. And apparently I suck at magic as much as I suck at dating because I screwed this up too.”</p><p>~~~</p><p>In which Stiles' Valentine's Day love spell goes very wrong. </p><p>Or perhaps very right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me Under the Light of a Thousand Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a Sterek-shaped Valentine for you all! 
> 
> Title from Ed Sheeran's [Thinking Out Loud](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lp-EO5I60KA), which I am unabashedly obsessed with. It's also referenced in the fic. :)
> 
> Oh, and there's a completely inconsequential Damon Salvatore (from the The Vampire Diaries) cameo because reasons. 
> 
> Many thanks to [literaryoblivion](literaryoblivion.tumblr.com) for reading the first draft!
> 
> Also...this is my 50th Sterek fic. 5-0. Holy crap, y'all. I feel endlessly inspired by these idiots in love and by this fandom, and all of you wonderful and kind readers with your kudos and super sweet comments are to thank for that. I look forward to writing another 50 Sterek fics for you.

“Why do you smell like magic?”

The question catches Stiles off guard, making him stumble slightly as he lets himself in Derek’s front door. “Um…no reason. I was just reading some of Deaton’s musty old books. Must be residual witch-spores on them or something.” Stiles’ heart is skipping fast, and his scent is clouded with nerves as well as the fresh earth and ozone smell of spell work.

Derek’s eyes narrow in suspicion as he watches him shuffle through the living room, tossing down his keys and the stack of DVDs he brought for pack movie night. “Pizza here already?” Stiles asks, brushing past Derek and into the kitchen, darting his eyes up to Derek’s, expectant almost, and then quickly away. Something is definitely up with him, but Derek decides not to push it. Yet. After all, part of the reason Derek agreed to host a pack movie night on Valentine’s Day was precisely because Stiles seemed to need it so badly, and he doesn’t want to ruin it before it even starts. 

Predictably, the pack has all coupled off into serious relationships in the years since they’ve all moved back to Beacon Hills after college; Erica and Boyd are engaged, Lydia and Allison just bought a house together, Scott and Kira recently celebrated their two year anniversary, and even Liam and Mason, both college sophomores, recently began dating each other.

Perpetually Single Stiles, as he’s taken to calling himself in his more maudlin moments, hasn’t been handling it well. Of course, he’s supportive and happy for his friends, puts on a good show, but Derek can tell just how much it strains him, how much it bothers him that he’s still single while of his friends partner off, and how it’s gotten worse in the weeks leading up to the dreaded holiday. So Derek had entertained Stiles’ rants against the "heteronormative, fairy-tale bullshit, corporate farce that is Valentine’s Day," and had supported his efforts in convincing the pack that they should all boycott in solidarity. To Derek’s surprise, they had all gone along with it, agreeing to pizza and movies instead of romance.

(Of course, for the past week, Derek has smelled nothing but flowers and chocolate and sex on them, confirming his suspicion that their coupled friends have just decided to keep their Valentine’s Day celebrations to themselves for Stiles’ sake. And Derek also hasn’t pointed out to Stiles that he too is single, has been since Braeden, years now, longer than Stiles has been single in fact, because Derek certainly hasn’t forgotten that douche of a boyfriend he had his junior year of college).

“Dude, I thought we agreed no Valentine’s Day crap!” Stiles yells from the kitchen. Derek follows the sound of his indignant voice to find him standing next to the island in the kitchen where the pizzas, delivered just before Stiles arrived, are stacked, the open box on top the cause of Stiles’ offense. “Heart-shaped pizza, Derek? With heart-shaped pepperoni? Are you shitting me?”

“They were on special,” Derek shrugs, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge.

“Yeah, and I’m sure you really need to save the money,” he mutters, taking the beer Derek offers him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Derek asks. “You’re acting really weird.” This close, Stiles leaning against the island and Derek leaning next to the sink, he can see that Stiles’ cheeks are flushed, and that his pupils are big and dark, almost eclipsing the honeyed brown of his irises, a common side effect of casting magic. And Stiles is even more anxious and jittery than usual, can’t stop tapping his fingers against the beer bottle, twisting his other hand in the tail of his plaid shirt, keeps staring at him, seeking, and then darting his eyes away in something like hopeful embarrassment that Derek finds very confusing.

(Derek long ago grew accustomed to the way Stiles stares at him sometimes, knows it doesn’t mean anything, because, well, a lot of people look at him that way. Isaac used to a lot, and Erica still does sometimes, which just makes Boyd laugh and shake his head. It’s not like Stiles actually likes Derek romantically, or would even consider him anything more than just a hook up if something were to happen between them, which is exactly why Derek _hasn’t_ responded to Stiles’ obvious attraction to him, knows damn well how that would destroy him, Stiles only wanting him for sex.)

But these looks are different, and Derek thinks it must have something to do with whatever magic Stiles has been playing around with, which, no matter how many times Deaton and Derek have warned him, he still insists on experimenting with without werewolf or druid supervision. But he doesn’t get a chance to further question him, because the rumble of cars coming up the driveway announces the rest of the pack’s arrival, and Stiles slips out of the kitchen to welcome them, evasive and shame-faced.

**~*~**

It doesn’t take long to figure it out.

It starts with Scott, who grabs Stiles as soon as he walks in and pulls him into a long hug, scenting him deeply and running a hand lazily up and down his back. “Stiles,” he sighs, his own scent blossoming with sweet affection. “I missed you,” Scott coos, rubbing his face into Stiles’ neck in a gesture of intimacy between them Derek’s never seen, and he tries not to let his eyes bulge too hard in surprise. (Surprise, yes that’s what he’s feeling. Certainly _not_ irrational jealousy).

“Um, dude, I saw you this morning at the gym,” Stiles replies, spinning out of his best friend’s embrace, apparently just as confused by Scott’s behavior as Derek is. Scott, for his part, just smiles dopily, never taking his puppy eyes off of Stiles. 

And then Kira, who approaches Stiles with a big glass of wine and a plate of pizza, the heart-shaped pepperoni mysteriously missing. “Stiles, here you go,” she says with smile as dopey as Scott’s, handing him the plate and glass. “I picked off all the pepperoni because I know you didn’t want any V-day reminders. Derek shouldn’t have ordered the heart-shaped pizza,” she adds, leveling him with a dark glare before returning her gaze to Stiles, who awkwardly accepts her offerings.

Derek’s eyebrows shoot straight up in surprise. He’s never heard Kira ever say so much as a harsh word towards or about anyone, ever, yet the look she gives him is positively _lethal_. 

“Whoa, K-fox,” Stiles laughs. “Is that any way to thank your alpha for buying you dinner,” he teases playfully.

“Oh my god, Stiles, you are so right,” Kira exclaims, shamed. “Derek, I’m so sorry. If Stiles doesn’t mind, I shouldn’t mind. Stiles says you’re a good alpha, and he’s always right. Stiles, you’re so smart. And handsome.” Kira never looks away from Stiles’ face, smiling apologetically, eyes glazed. Now Stiles’ eyes are bulging in confused shock, and Derek can’t help but laugh, even though he knows he shouldn’t, and it sounds bitter, mirthless.

The energy in the house is all off, not at all like the peaceful contentment that usually thrums between them when they’re all gathered as a pack, a family. Instead, they’re all humming with agitation, an eagerness that feels vibrant but _wrong_ somehow, false, the scent of magic Stiles brought with him growing ever stronger along with the cloying, overwhelmingly sweet waves of affection pouring off everyone. Everyone but Stiles, whose scent of sour embarrassment is growing exponentially as he realizes that everyone’s affections are zeroed in on him.

Everyone but Derek’s, that is, who’s the only one who seems to be acting normally. He keeps waiting for Stiles to say something, because he’s obviously freaking out more and more by the second. He finally snaps when Allison and Lydia, who had been in the corner near the kitchen table whispering to each other and watching his every move, flank him, each of them placing an elegant arm around his shoulders and tossing their bouncy hair. “Stiles, honey,” Lydia whispers. “Ally and I were wondering if you wanted to have a special Valentine’s celebration with us.” She runs a perfectly manicured nail down his chest, glossy lips pouting next to his ear. “We can make you feel so good.”

“What the fuck is happening?” Stiles yells, freeing themselves from their grasp and striding away, only to run headfirst into Boyd’s formidable chest. Boyd just catches him and pulls him into a hug, petting his hair, cradling his head in his giant hand, the other clasping protectively at his lower back.

“Stiles, baby, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” Boyd attempts to calm him with a tenderness in his voice Derek has only ever heard him use with Erica, and only then when he thinks no one else can hear him.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Derek declares, grabbing Stiles by the back of the neck and pulling him away from Boyd’s arms. His beta’s eyes flash gold and he growls low, and if Derek hadn’t been convinced already of what was going on, that would have done it. There’s no way in hell Boyd would ever challenge him like this, over _Stiles_. He growls back, loud enough for them all to hear it, letting his eyes shine red, subduing Boyd’s challenge and making the rest of them cower just a bit. “Stay here,” he orders, and hauls Stiles out of the kitchen. 

**~*~**

Derek doesn’t let go of him until they’re outside on the front porch, away from the increasingly frantic pack that’s desperate for Stiles’ attention. “What did you do?” he demands, crossing his arms, even though he can guess just fine.

Stiles doesn’t say anything at first, just falls to sit on the top step, shoulders sagging. “Love spell,” he mumbles finally, barely audible even to Derek’s keen ears, his face firing red, making the beauty marks on his cheek stand out even more delectably.

“You did a spell to make everyone fall in love with you?”

“What, no, do you think I’m _that_ desperate?” Derek crooks up an eyebrow. “Never mind, don’t answer that.” Stiles sighs heavily. “It was a true love spell,” he admits quietly. “It was supposed to help me find my true love. And apparently I suck at magic as much as I suck at dating because I screwed this up too.”

Derek studies him for a moment, stomach turning and chest aching at the waves of sadness pouring off him. He fights the urge to pull him into an embrace. Even though he just wants to comfort him, he’s sure Stiles has had more than enough unwanted touching for one evening. He settles for sitting next to him on the step. “You don’t suck at magic,” he says. “You did a great job with that protection spell that helped us fight off those pixies last month.” Stiles side-eyes him incredulously. “But,” Derek goes on, “love spells are unethical, and stupid, and no one should ever do them, because they almost always backfire or somehow go wrong.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that,” he mumbles, despondent. “So what, I screwed it up and now everyone thinks they’re crazily in love with me?”

“Looks that way.”

“But not you. I mean, you don’t seem affected.” Stiles says it like an accusation, and Derek doesn’t know what to make of that.

Derek has no idea why the spell isn’t working on him, doesn’t want to think about all the possible reasons why right now, not when Stiles is so distraught and he can hear his pack on the other side of the door, arguing over who gets to sit next to him during the movie, their voices rising. “It’s probably because I’m an alpha,” he answers. “Magic affects me differently, remember?” 

“Un-fucking-believable,” Stiles mutters, nearly inaudible again. “Not even magic…” he drifts off, petulant.

Derek looks at him quizzically for a moment before soldiering on. “Whatever the reason I’m not affected, it’s a good thing, because right now we need someone in their right mind.”

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, because anyone in love with me is clearly insane,” he pouts.

“Or because you took away their free will,” Derek snaps, harsher than he means to, this whole situation making him very uncomfortable and on-edge.

“I didn’t mean to,” Stiles mumbles, the self-pity in his voice turning to genuine regret. “I’m just tired of being alone.”

Derek sighs. “I get why you did it. Let’s just work on fixing it, okay? Where did you get the spell?”

“Fiona. She didn’t want to give it me, but I pestered her until she relented.”

“Your friend from college? The witch?”

“More like witch-in-training. She’s learning from her aunt.”

Derek closes his eyes and breathes in deep, counting to ten slowly before he speaks again. “You did an unsupervised spell that you got from a ‘witch-in-training’? An unsupervised _love_ spell? Stiles, come on. I would have expected this when you were in high school, but you’re twenty-five years old now. You should know better.”

“Says the asshole who can get laid just walking down the street,” Stiles retorts bitterly, and Derek wants to laugh at how incredibly wrong he is.

He doesn’t though, just takes another steadying breath. “Where does Fiona live? Up the coast, right?”

“Yeah, just north of Mendocino. It’s about a three hour drive.”

“Okay,” Derek says standing, relieved that he has something like a plan to fix this. “I’ll go explain to the others what’s going on. You call Fiona and explain what’s happening. Tell her we’ll be there soon.”

**~*~**

They stop for gas on the way out of town, and Derek orders Stiles to stay in the Camaro when he pulls into the 7Eleven. They’re not sure if it's just the pack that’s affected, or if others will also fall in fake love with Stiles upon seeing him, but Derek doesn’t really want to find out by dangling him in front of a bunch of unsuspecting strangers just trying to get through Valentine’s Day.

“But I was gonna by snacks,” Stiles whines. “Three hours is a long drive, and I didn’t get to have any stupid heart-shaped pizza.”

“I’ll get them,” Derek barks, shoving the pump into the gas tank, still riled up from subduing the pack. He can’t stop seeing Erica’s glazed, golden eyes and trembling lips when he told them he was taking Stiles to Fiona to fix the problem, which none of them understood as a problem at all, of course. _You’re taking him away from me_ , Erica had cried, utterly betrayed. _But he’s mine_ , she whined, Boyd’s arm coming around her shoulders in consolation.

 _He’s mine_ , Derek had snarled back, eyes red, thankful that they were all so dazed they likely wouldn’t remember him saying it and that Stiles was outside where he couldn’t hear.

“Reese’s,” Stiles calls out from the passenger side of the car, oblivious to Derek’s inner turmoil. “And Skittles, and Doritos, cool ranch. And Dr. Pepper. Oh, and beef jerky.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Are you stoned?”

“I wish. Magic always makes me hungry.”

“No beef jerky. I can’t stand the smell.”

“Fine, princess. Funyuns, then. Please,” he adds belatedly, meeting Derek’s look in the side mirror and smiling. Even though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes, Derek is happy to see it.

He’s less happy when he comes out of the store carrying a paper bag full of junk food, already irritated that the clerk had cajoled him into buying a rose for his valentine, when he sees a strange guy leaning into the open driver’s side window of the Camaro talking to Stiles. The guy smells like shitty cologne and pungent lust, and even at a distance Derek can tell that he’s under the sway of the spell.

“Nah, it’s not mine,” Stiles is saying, eyes meeting Derek’s through the windshield. “I don’t feel the need to drive a car that constantly reminds everyone of what an intimidating badass I am,” he says loudly, even though he knows damn well he doesn’t need to for Derek to hear, grinning obnoxiously ( _or adorably, whatever_ ).

“You are so fucking hot,” the stranger answers, hand reaching in through the window. Derek doesn’t think, just reacts, and in a split-second the bag is spilling onto the hood and he’s got the popped collar of the guy’s polo shirt in his fist, dragging him away from the car.

“Who are _you_ ,” he squeaks, scent spiking with fear.

“I’m the intimidating badass,” Derek growls, shoving him away, letting his eyes flash red for just a second to really scare him off.

Derek doesn’t look at Stiles again until he’s done gathering up the spilled snacks and the dumb rose, tossing the bag in his lap when he slides back into the car. Stiles is grinning, eyes bright and sparkling. “Dude,” he says, utterly failing at stifling back his laughter.

“Shut up,” Derek says, utterly failing at not smiling back at him.

**~*~**

“You never let me choose the music,” Stiles says, astonished, when Derek tells him to hook up his phone to the stereo. “Is this whole thing really an elaborate ruse to kill me or banish me from the pack, so you’re being extra nice to me? Are these Funyuns my last meal?”

“Yes, Stiles. Instead of just ripping your throat out with my teeth, I had Fiona, whom I’ve never met, give you a shoddy love spell so I would have a reason to get you out of town to murder you.”

“I’m on to you, Sourwolf.”

“Just play some music,” he laughs, shaking his head as they pull onto the highway.

They don’t talk for a while, Stiles’ chewing and the increasingly melancholy love songs pouring from the speakers filling the comfortable silence between them. Finally, after _another_ sappy song from that Ron Weasley-looking British kid, Derek picks up Stiles’ phone to look at the playlist. **_The Last Single Boy in the World._**

“Stiles,” he starts, unsure what exactly he wants to say. “You know there’s nothing wrong with being single, right? I mean…just because you’re single doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”

“That’s nice of you to say, big guy, but I gotta say, I’ve been feeling pretty unloveable lately.”

“That’s pretty funny coming from someone who has the world under his love spell.”

Stiles scoffs. “Exactly. A love spell. It takes _actual_ magic for anyone to be interested in me, and even then….” He sighs heavily, not finishing his thought. “It sucks, you know? Not being able to be completely happy for my friends because I’m so insanely jealous of what they have. It makes me feel like a shitty person.”

“You’re not a shitty person.”

“You said it yourself, Derek. I took away people’s free will. My friends. Because I want what they have.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose. You said it was a spell to help you find your true love. What was supposed to happen?”

Stiles shrugs and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “The translation wasn’t super clear on that. It just said it was spell to ‘reveal your truest love, the one who has always seen you, loves you, and always will.’ I got the impression that, uh…me and my true love would like, see each other and just _know_ , you know? Like big magical sparks would start flying or something. At least that’s what I was hoping for.”

“But instead you got everyone who sees you thinking they’ve fallen in love with you. I see the twisted logic there. Love spells are always conniving like that. You should have known better, but you didn’t set out to hurt anyone. And you haven’t hurt anyone, and we’ll get this fixed so you don’t. You’re not a shitty person.”

“Thanks, Derek.” Stiles sounds slightly less despondent, but still sad. 

“And you’re not unloveable,” he adds, glad Stiles can’t hear his heart.

“I’ve been single for _years_ ,” he argues pitifully.

“And so have I. Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question, DerBear?”

“Not at all.”

“It’s different for you,” Stiles goes on, sighing again. “You’re...you can get whoever you want, whenever you want, just by like, existing. For a relationship or for just for sex. Me though? Shit, man, it’s been over a year since someone touched my cock – oh fuck, I can’t believe I said that.”

His scent spikes with embarrassment, and Derek tries not to be pleased at learning this interesting new fact. “It’s been two years for me,” he admits quietly.

“ _What_ ,” Stiles squawks, mouth hanging open and turning towards him, spilling a bag of Skittles across his lap.

“You heard me,” Derek says, terse, squeezing the wheel. 

“But,” Stiles sputters, “you’re _you_. People _literally_ throw themselves at you. Remember when we went to Disneyland for Erica’s birthday and those two Playboy models wouldn’t stop hitting on you?”

Derek shudders, the scent of self-tanner and hair bleach still too strong in his memory. “Just because I look like I can get sex whenever I want doesn’t mean I actually do,” he explains as he takes a few more steadying breaths. “I’m not really interested in casual sex. Haven’t been in long time.”

“Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense.” Derek feels his eyes on him, assessing and thoughtful, and he focuses on driving, on not looking over to meet his gaze like he wants to. “Doesn’t explain why you’re still single though.”

“That’s my whole point, Stiles,” he says, exasperated. “I shouldn’t have to explain it, and neither should you. Being single isn’t a _problem_ that needs excusing. It’s just a detail about my life, just a detail about your life.”

“So you’re not into relationships either?” Stiles asks, confused.

“I didn’t say that. I just mean that you shouldn’t be beating yourself up for being single, or for not having sex. It’s okay to want those things and to be sad sometimes if you don’t have them, but don’t get down on yourself for it. It doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with you. That’s all I’m trying to say.” 

Stiles watches him again, contemplative, and then finally looks back out the window, not speaking again for a while. “Do you believe in true love,” he asks suddenly. “Like, what this spell was supposed to have done, if I hadn’t screwed it up somehow. Do you believe that there’s at least one person out there, for each of us?”

“Yes,” Derek says, unequivocally, turning up the stereo to listen to Stiles’ next love song.

~*~ 

“I have to pee,” Stiles announces about an hour later. “I drank that Dr. Pepper really fast.” 

Unwilling to risk another scene at a gas station or a rest stop, Derek pulls off the highway onto a secluded access road that runs along a thin stretch of trees. They both get out and walk towards them, their backs to the car and the road. It’s fully dark, and out here away from the cities, the stars are infinite and bright, shimmering against the blue-back sky around an almost-full moon whose power thrums under Derek’s skin.

Derek respects the one-urinal rule, even outside, standing a several feet away from Stiles as they both unzip, and Stiles sighs, looking up. “‘Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars,’’ he murmurs, hushed and mumbled, but Derek still recognizes the lyric.

“What was that?” 

Stiles groans. “Nothing, just… pretty stars and moonlight...romantic setting on Valentine’s Day…two dudes with their dicks in their hands….” 

Derek rolls his eyes, but laughs along with him. “Come on.” He zips up, jerking his head towards the car. “I’m sure Fiona is anxiously waiting for us to ruin her Valentine’s Day.”

**~*~**

Fiona lives in a small cottage perched on a low bluff above the beach, a secluded spot surrounded by trees with an expansive view of the Pacific.

“Stay here,” Derek orders again, shutting off the engine.

“What,” Stiles protests. “She’s _my_ friend, dude!”

“And we want her to help us, not fall victim to your endless charms. Stay here until I talk to her and we figure out how to fix this, okay?”

Stiles sits back against his seat with a huff and a grunt, and Derek smirks. It’s so rare that Stiles lets him have the last word, he’s got to enjoy it whenever he can. 

Fiona answers his knock with a kind smile. “Derek? Hi, come in.” She’s a beautiful young woman, cat-like gray-green eyes and long auburn hair; they’ve definitely interrupted her Valentine’s Day plans because she’s wearing nothing but a lacy red nightgown, short and clingy, revealing generous curves, and Derek finds himself wondering anxiously if Stiles and Fiona were ever more than friends. 

He steps over the threshold, the heady scents of pot and sex and something sugary and magical that he can’t place clouding around him. Fiona snaps her fingers, sparks flying between them and sending a small orb of glowing light to flutter above them, illuminating the dark entry way with ethereal light. “Let me get a look at you,” she murmurs, seemingly having no sense of urgency about their situation, but she also doesn’t seem to be upset that he’s interrupted her.

Her eyes, bright and knowing, look him up and down, assessing and appreciative. “Wow,” she says finally. “I guess Stiles doesn’t exaggerate _everything_ ,” she grins.

Before Derek can respond, a man, the source of that uncanny sweet scent, appears from around a corner, naked, sky-blue eyes supernaturally vivid against his pale skin and onyx hair. He stands behind Fiona, wrapping one arm around her waist and gulping from a bottle of red wine.

“Ah, sweetie, did you get me another Valentine’s Day present?” The guy smirks, the whites of his eyes going blood red. “And a werewolf too? Honey, you shouldn’t have.”

Fiona giggles and takes the bottle from him and sips it before offering it to Derek, who shakes his head. “Damon, this is Derek.”

“Ah, yes, the alpha, the one boy in all the world immune to that adorably pretty Stiles kid,” Damon, grins, sharp fangs descending, all teasing, no aggression behind it.

“Vampire?” Derek asks, incredulous. He hasn’t seen a vampire since he was kid, and he can’t believe Stiles didn’t tell him that apparently, he’s met one.

“Indeed, wolfman. And you’re lucky I adore my little witch woman so much that I’m taking her word that you won’t bite me, all right? I have no interest in a recreation of Twilight on Valentine’s Day…or ever. Okay, big guy? We're good?”

Derek isn’t exactly sure what he’s walked into, but he nods, and this time he takes the bottle when Fiona offers it to him. “I’m just here to help Stiles and the rest of my pack.”

“Fortunately, it’s an easy fix,” Fiona tells, him, nodding towards the living room, pulling Damon behind her. Derek follows them, taking in the cluttered living room, the smell of weed and sex more potent in here, a purple, beaded sheer scarf tossed over the only lamp that’s on, making the smoky room glow with diffuse amethyst light. 

Derek sits in an overstuffed green velvet armchair next to the faux-cheetah print couch, where Fiona perches on the edge, Damon stretching out behind her. “So,” she says, hauling two heavy books up from the floor and setting them on the coffee table with a heavy thud. “I called my aunt and explained the situation, and as it turns out, this is mostly my fault. Well, mine and whatever lazy-ass witch who copied this spell book a hundred years ago.”

“You messed up the spell, not Stiles?”

“Oh no, the spell’s working exactly as it should,” she tells him matter-of-factly. “I just didn’t know _how_ it worked,” Fiona goes on. “See,” she opens the smaller, newer-looking book and points to a passage. “This is what I gave Stiles, but I didn’t know that this is only a partial version of the spell. It was miscopied – or not fully copied, actually. Here’s the original.” She flips open the bigger, older book and points to longer section of text, a spidery scrawl that's only partially in English. “This explains how the spell _actually_ works, which isn't in the version I gave Stiles.” She shrugs. “My bad.”

Derek stares at her in confusion. “I don’t understand. Stiles said the spell was to find his true love, but everyone who sees him thinks they’re in love with him. How can it possibly be working the way it’s supposed to?” 

Fiona smiles and looks down, suddenly sheepish. “Come on, just tell the pup,” Damon nudges her, grinning at Derek.

“What do you know about love spells, Derek?”

“That they always go wrong.” 

“That’s usually true. But do you know one of the most common reasons why?” Derek shakes his head. Fiona puts the books down and leans forward to gently clasp his hand, like she’s about to give him very important news. “Love spells don’t work on people who are already in love with the caster. The magic and the authentic feelings cancel each other out. And that usually sparks magical…collateral damage, which is why people caught in the crossfire go all wonky and things end badly.”

“Okay,” Derek says slowly, starting to piece it together.

“So the spell I gave Stiles _is_ for finding your true love, but, in a way that takes advantage of this major flaw of love spells. It’s a spell that makes everyone who sees the caster fall immediately and irrationally love with them, with the knowledge and intent that it won’t affect the caster’s true love, and _that's_ how they're revealed to you."

“Oh,” he says quietly, swallowing hard, a swoop of excitement and fear fluttering in his chest.

“Yeah,” Fiona whispers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’ve known how I feel about him for a long time. I guess I have to tell him now though, huh?” The thought of having to finally admit his feelings to Stiles fills him with a rush of hope-tinged anxiety.

“I think he’ll be very happy that it’s you,” she says, smiling gently. “Ecstatic, actually.”

“Really? I know he’s attracted to me,” Derek bows his head, blushing, “but I’m not sure he actually has feelings for me.”

Fiona squeezes his hand. “He never said as much to me, but it was pretty clear that he was hoping the spell would lead him to you.”

Derek’s heart starts to race, hope growing, the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat outside ringing louder in his ears, as he grows more eager to return to him, to tell him just how well his love spell worked. But first, he’s got to end it. “How do we break the spell?”

Fiona laughs and winks at him. “How do you think?”

**~*~**

“We have to do the reversal spell near the water?” Stiles asks, letting Derek lead him down the steep path that leads from Fiona’s house to the beach.

“Sure,” Derek says, thinking that’s as good an explanation as any. He took one look at the stars, shimmering and effulgent over the crashing waves, and he knew immediately that he wanted the romance of it all, for Stiles, wants to break the spell in the moonlight by the ocean.

Derek doesn’t let go of his hand when the get down to the sand, and Stiles doesn’t say anything about it, walks hand in hand with him until they’re a little ways down from Fiona’s house, outgoing tide creeping away at their feet. He stops and turns so they’re facing each other, taking in just how lovely he is, moonlight accentuating the marvelous curves and planes of his exquisite face, eyes big and curious, searching Derek’s face. 

“So how do we break this spell?” Stiles is shivering a bit, so Derek shrugs off his leather jacket and wraps it around his shoulders, using the lapels to pull him close until they’re chest-to-chest, no question about his intent. His heart is racing in response to Stiles’ rabbiting pulse, his scent redolent with hope and arousal.

“Turns out the spell’s a classic,” he whispers, gazing into his eyes, finally letting himself get lost in them like he's always wanted. “Like a fairy tale.”

The kiss is tentative at first, just a warm press of hopeful lips, and then Stiles makes this _noise,_ this throaty little mewl of delight that ignites something held deep and tightly reined for far too long, and then Derek has his hands on Stiles’ face, his neck, pulling him closer, roughly, kissing with all he has, licking into his mouth in a desperate need to finally taste him. Stiles kisses him back with equal fervor, lips supple and warm, slotting against his in perfect harmony, magic snapping and sparking around them, dissipating and fizzling out, no match for the force of love recognizing love.

They finally pull apart, just enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together, still clinging tightly, Stiles’ lithe body a live wire against his, practically begging to be explored and worshiped by Derek’s hands, by his tongue.

Derek reaches into his back pocket and grabs the gas station rose, stem shortened considerably by a quick slice of his claw when he grabbed it from the car without Stiles noticing after he talked to Fiona. The flower is surprisingly still vibrant and fresh, and Derek spins it between his fingers, residual magic in the air making the red petals glitter and spark with effervescent light.

Stiles smiles, awed, scent blossoming with happiness. “True love’s kiss,” he whispers.

Derek nods and place a gentle, tender kiss on his true love's mouth. “Under the light of a thousand stars.”

~~~  
the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://deleted-scenes.tumblr.com/)


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